The Devil's Violinist
by Gauntz and Eflwyn
Summary: The Devil's Violinist; That's the latest nickname Ludwig has heard from the members of court. He had only meant to be a simple violinist, and traveling virtuoso, yet as he is entangled in court politics, drama, intrigue and romance, there is more than meets the eye; Encountering his first love, and perhaps his last is one thing - Yet when he discovers the truth about everything..
1. Teufelsgeiger

Applause follows, the throng of the crowd cheering, in a harmonious, yet rather boring type of monotony. I feel the gentle pat on my back turning, letting my hair that had been neatly tied back in a small bun, finally fall loose due to my previous performance's...movements. Rather, I wouldn't suggest them as movements, but erratic twists and turns, expressions of the body, it being affected by passion, and the glory of the crowd. My long bright locks are felt, as my feet solemnly tap the ground in an odd sort of gait, shielding them from the instrument, and I heard several screams and shouts. London was too much for me, even as a performer of the usual stops as virtuoso, or at least a violinist. The ceiling is painted with dancing angelic figures, making me grin yet frown at their suggestion. This damned city. I needed to leave, then and there..

I sighed, fixing a grin, as at that moment I felt a tug at my sleeve. "Mr.. Mr... Beilschmidt... A lady of the court.." I bend down, trying to grasp his words before we exit the theatre, and enter the gardens outside. "The London Opera House, near the Covent Gardens.. ah.. and what year is it... ah what is your name..." Trying to remember the strange name, as if to remember some odd, precious moment.. "Aster, sir. And it is the year 1863.." His voice broke at that moment, and I patted him on the head. "Then, Aster. What did you have to tell me..?" We had both apparently decided to walk into the luxuriant, rich and lavish garden, disappearing between neatly trimmed hedges, like the fans, each lady of court seemed to sport, like a fashion.

At the time, I spoke only four languages; German, Italian, and English. Obvious, as a general 'favorite,' among the court, I would be pressured to learn even more... I wipe the thoughts away, sweat, and salt from my brow, still clutching the violin towards me, the bow at my side. "I.. I.."Aster tugs at my hand, and I bend downwards a bit, as to level our eyes. "One of the ladies of the court... wish to see you." I gave another tired, breathy sigh. Again. Another 'Lady,' or a Mistress... Same thing. What had been gossip, in the sewers and pits of London had now risen to privileged ears. All of the king's court, had consisted of, and entirely of, smart, political savvy women, desperate for power. "Oh! You mean.. a whore." I hadn't usually used such awful intolerable language, yet it seemed worthy, even with an arrogant smirk, for them. "Do not call them.." Aster paused, blinking his brilliant blue eyes. "Such a word.." He managed to drawl, and I stood. "Tell them, I shall not come. I will never surrender to the... intrigue of the court." I declared with an authoritative air about me. "I am self made man, do not forget that Aster.. You do not need to tell me of these...things." "But I am paid sir." Aster replied, looking away at his feet shamefully. "Do not accept bribes, not money, nor anything..." I gave him another weary glance, one which would crumble any heart, a man's desperation for sanity and peace, and Aster looked away again, this time his glance not reaching mines. "Then.. what? You cannot delay.. these things, any longer.. I know what they'd do to your career." I heard his soft mumble, and I replied the same line, orchestrated over and over again. "Must I tell you again? I... I won't surrender, to them. They... It is a dangerous game, boy, remember my words."

Aster nodded, still averting my gaze, and walked away, leaving me alone amongst the scent of flowers, leaves, and the poisoning taste of perfume on the edge of my tongue. I heard a laugh, a gentle one, that turned into a coo, like a bird, without a beak. "He's so.. incredibly handsome.. why.. but I heard he had cut his hair before.." "The King, Edward, is it? Ah, he couldn't even charm me... but him.." I look upwards at the woman, with light orange hair, beautifully braided, a small tiara, jeweled, and elegant dress.. She looks at me with her green eyes, like an emerald.. dazzling. Yet expensive.

"Ooh! Look he's caught my eye again.. Or has he with me..?" She gave a shrill laugh, too high, or perhaps too low for a woman...

I swept any estranged suspicion and slowly walked, an elegant gait, towards the group of two The pony-tail, as I've now dubbed her, and the Blonde, with oddly, shorter hair...

"Hello, my fellow blessed members of the court." I slightly bow, gently caressing 'pony-tail's,' hand, and placing it upon my lips. It was all an act, of course; Tantalize her delights, and maybe she'll leave, I thought. She gave a small laugh and thin red trailed over her overly powdered face; I didn't understand the logics of this, powder, blush and all, or her low hanging dress, revealing creamy white shoulders; I found it repulsive, disgusting...

"Ah.. you are Ludwig.. Ludwig Beilschmidt.. I see you have quite a passion for your violin.." "That I do, my lady." I replied, slowly turning my eyes away, as if not to be locked into conversation. "I am... Feliciana." She gives a neat bow, gracefully, yet clumsily tugging at her dress in a curtsy. "And I am... um.." I saw Feliciana gently nudge the blonde, and she stiffened a tad bit.. "Elizabeth!" She chimed. "Forgetting your name, in my presence.. are you?" I winked at her, turning to leave, yet Feliciana wouldn't let me.. Her hand brushed against my sleeve. "Your boy. Aster...He had said you had rejected me.." "Excuse me, my lady?" I turn to her, putting the pieces together, painfully and slowly.

"You.. Ah.. I must decline, for tonight, my show has been anything but, relaxing; I have been restless, and now my body, and mind must rest, along with the night." I try to add, desperately wanting to leave now; Any altercation with a lady of the court, usually ended in public shame, and tragic end. Of one's career, of course. "No but.." She looks away, word, hesitant, as the blonde, Elizabeth nudged Feliciana. "Of course, Ludwig. Rest; We shall, try another time." She bats her eyelashes, and I finally turned to leave, rushing out of the garden with.. rather odd thoughts, escaping the sea of perfumed scents, and fans, with ladies behind them, giggling like bats.

That sweet smell, so sweet and sinister, could make any sane person, vomit. Wiping another bead of sweat that had accumulated on my forehead, I board the carriage, signaling the driver to go with the slight wave of my hand. Clutching my violin to my lap, I sat in complete, or rather awkward silence. The rather extravagant, 'inn,' or lodgings as I had so modestly requested was more a palace, or summer retreat in France. After all, I was to stay in London for several weeks, or even months if the court had made me do so.

Of course that wouldn't happen. After what had happened... What had happened..

The cobblestone bricks of Victorian-Age London, and even older, laid the pathway to my lodgings as the driver gave a monotonous, 'Here.' My thoughts were again, disturbed, and as I stepped out, the steps once again orchestrated, timed, perfect... like an instrument. "Good day, sir." The driver gave me a bow, and drove off, the full moon ablaze with life, an elegant dance.. It reminded me of that night I had spent in Venice, the canals as streets, boats as vehicles, a stately fashion, followed with style.. Of course, I appreciated my homeland, Germany, more; I was, for a period of my life a resident in Berlin, until rudely shipped off in the events of my life to Aachen, to be trained. Though, one must acknowledge the true beauty of a street paved with water, no matter how light, and weak it may be, it made a powerful, pensive statement..

I heard my feet echo, whilst blinking my eyes, my coat, taken and perhaps hanged, the violin still at my side. More doors open to reveal a set of stairs, and I ascended upwards, leaning cautiously and prudently on the railing. The spiral, and constant decorations that lined every corner of my eye, ate away at the bare necessity of simplicity that I had always possessed, making me even more tired than I should be. I had finally found the grand door that had been my current residence, and opened them, the gush of warm air, and a familiar scent of a goose-feathered bed, struck me. Yet, what had struck me the most, was the steam emerging from the bathroom, and the scent of... flowers. Something oddly sweet, and familiar. "Hello? Is there anyone here..?" I called out in a stately voice, or at least as stately as I could muster at that moment. "Vaffanculo, Bastardo! Leave at once! These.. are my assigned quarters.. leave now!" I heard a scream and at first, I backed away.. Was this the wrong room? Surely it couldn't be, and my thoughts were affirmed, and set, as I spotted my plain oak chest of belongings. I slightly panicked; I didn't want to be trapped into a scandal, again. A scandal that cost my heart, that had poured into my passions.

"These are my quarters! Hurry up, leave!..." I was of course, interrupted. "They were right! I can tell by your voice; No one can forget it. You truly are.. the Devil's violinist!" Of course, I had encountered many names, yet I could remember the most powerful of them, spoken by... someone of the same standing. Devil Worshipper. Woman hater... but one I hadn't encountered yet; 'The Devil's Violinist.' I could place easy bets on who had started such a name; Perhaps the women of the court who had been, again, rejected. I could dedicate my heart to know one else but my one true love, already lost, my heart left to wilt. "

"Devil's Violinist? That's new.." I tried to steady my voice, as it trembled at the sudden remembrance, and burst of feeling. "I told you leave!" I entered the room deeper, steam still leaking from the bathroom. "Just hurry up. Dress and leave." I looked away from the bathroom door, and settle on the bed, setting the instrument, now warmed with my own warmth. Gazing at the plastered and painted ceiling depicting yet another lavish lifestyle, it made my mind wander once again...

The bathroom door suddenly opened, swinging forward a... man, wrapped in a towel, clutching at lady's clothes. "Look away!" Scarlet red, oddly like that lady, Feliciana, that I had met, ravaged over his skin. "Excuse me? You're a... guy.." I sat on the bed, clearly trying to process everything, yet I could only wear a dumbfounded expression upon my face. "Tha-" He pulled his towel upward. At that moment I stood, deciding to be straightforward; As I always was, of course.

"Are you the court 'lady,' Feliciana? Or..." And then, I was interrupted again. "No.. I.. She sent.. for you to come, yet you wouldn't and..." He stammered and stuttered. "And what?" I intersect. "There has been enough women who have fallen for my so called, 'charms,' in which I lack of course..." I finally vented, exasperated. "Go. I'm guessing you're a boy of the kitchen, apparently hired to tend to her clothes, is it?" I had decided that would be it; Contemplating on that matter would only give me a headache. "Yes. I'm sorry sir; I just came to grab the.. lady's clothes." "Then please, state that. Go on, get out. Leave me to my own company." I added curtly, and he gave a slight nod, clumsily running through the large doors, the towel, flagging behind him. Leaning my palms against the elegant slabs, I let the lock slip easily in place with a mechanical whirr. "Peace.. at last.." I sighed, slipping off my shoes then my shirt, throwing it into the hamper along with my pants, and dove into the bed. I easily sunk, letting the warmth surround me, yet there was still a thought that seemed to constantly jade my mind. Why would 'Feliciana,' become so desperate? I had no true standing in the court; Only a damned trophy to those eyes who so desired conquest. Was it something... important?

No, that couldn't be. Me? Important for any plot? Surely that couldn't be. I was only a virtuoso.

A neat stack of music sheets, clean and fresh with the smell of ink lay beside my bed, like a painful, musical diary. "Bah. A man, disguised as a woman? That couldn't be... Just a mere kitchen boy.." I mumbled, pulling the sheets upward, forcing my eyes shut. I let the candlelight slowly dissolve, as I fell into a restless dream.

_The noises softly echoed along the sweet alabaster and marble floor, as a smile came across her lips, yet her face was partially blank. "Sing for me, bella. Sing, mein __liebe." I close my eyes hearing the familiar soft noise of song, yet it was without lyrics. The background faded away as I opened them, the music's volume dissolving into the surrounding walls, painted beautifully. Below us, as a familiar balcony entered my sight, was an elegant garden, lit with lanterns. "Ludwig... I love you.. I love you.." I look toward her, her face.. strange.. "F...Fe.." She held her finger to her lips; A face all too familiar.. "Felicia.." Her delicate hands swept across my cheek, slapping me, as she turned away leaning on the balcony's edge. "I'm going to jump...Bastardo... I can't do this anymore... I.. I don't love you, Ludwig. I never had." My eyes force open wider at the memory. "Y-you... don't then.. tell me.. Tell me! Why are you here?! Why.." Before I could finish, she let out a loud scream for help, and jumped, her hair like a thin parachute._

_She lay dead upon the tiled courtyard, as the doors burst open, and I was dragged away._

_"Felicana..Feliciana..."_

_She seemed dead; She looked dead, with a glassy eyed, piercing stare of pure disgust.._

_Was she dead? _

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	2. Auge

**So now Unglaubliche Gnade is my second most researched historical.**

**So, I apologize for late updates on this one. I kind of have a 'thing,' where everything has to be historically spot ****on. (Kind of.) **

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Awakening to the sound of my own scream, gargled, yet faint and distant in my mind's eye, is not a pleasing awakening. Nor is it enhanced by or at least bettered by the fact that... a very familiar kitchen boy, was hovering above me.

"What in god's name are you doing here?" I was developing some kind of language slur, that perhaps was related to such long periods of time in which I remained of residence in this country. Or perhaps I was still half awake at that moment; Or perhaps even the latter may be suggested.

His eyes, golden like nectar, looked at me with the same shuddering familiarity and clarity, of a certain someone. I had thought I knew her; Yet that was only reassured arrogance and over self-confidence, and that thought made my own conscience, wander.

"Feliciana!" His eyes open wide at the call I roared out, as I grabbed his face, feeling the thin cheeks. My arms pulled him downwards onto his knees in front of the lavish bed, and I could only feel small tugs of rebellion under my restraint. I felt a dull thud on my chest, signaling to me that he was alive; That this wasn't a dream anymore...

"I'm not her. I'm a 'kitchen boy,' mind you." He muffled into my chest, a small hum giving way. Yet I didn't move my arms to release him, choosing to have him lie on his knees, struggling; All for the joviality of it. I turned my head, snapping my neck into place, turning toward the other, my arm still locking him in place. There was a keen, almost uncanny resemblance to _that _girl. But she was dead, right? Or was that another person?... Surely that couldn't be.

As my suspicions heightened, I had forgotten the 'kitchen boy,' was there. "What is your name, kitchen boy?" I asked, unconsciously making the words descend from my tongue, like an orchestrated, personal, soliloquy. Well, that was on my mind at the moment, anyways.

"I _have_ a name, a name, mind you, it's Feliciano." He snapped, and my arms slightly slackened, as he fought away from my grip. "Almost sounds like..." I mused aloud, before being interrupted. "Feliciana? I get that a lot. We're not related in anyway." He looked away, as if he was... hiding something. I shook those thoughts away, yet also jotted them, realizing there actually may be... more than meets the eye.

"Now," Before continuing, I raised myself off of the bed, periodically sinking back into the sheets accidentally, as it was the density of soft quick sand. "Why are you here?"

"I am here, to notify you that the court has assigned.." He gave a tired, mocking sigh, much to my displeasure. "That I am to be your personal courtier; Or attendant if you'd prefer." Feliciano swore under his breath before looking at me again. Of course I wouldn't question the court. God knows what would happen if I did.

"Jä. Then what now?" After digging around in his pockets for awhile, he pulled several shillings and sixpence, silver coins. "You take me shopping." Feliciano grinned, throwing the coins at me. They landed softly in my lap and I sighed, tiredly. "Fine. Just let me wash up first." I stood, trying to balance my legs upon stable ground as I made my way to the wooden lacquered chest, the thin dark metal locks keeping it in place shuttered as I lifted them, as I grabbed clothes.

Behind me, as I made my way to the bathroom, Feliciano had found that digging through my music sheets, which were already organized, seemed to amuse him. I only gave another heavy sigh, caring to lock the door, as he did not. The neat bundle of clothes was set in the corner of the marbled and elegantly tiled room, and my clothes easily slipped off as I stepped into the shower, the room already warmed by a... previous occupant.

A waterfall rained from above me, steam, reinvigorating my lungs, and a tune of music already cascading, rung in my ears like a gong. "Chopin's Fantaisie Impromptu in F... Minor.." I mused out aloud once again, the notes reminding me of water. Standing under the shower head, I let the water pound on my skin like bricks, washing away the night.

For several brief moments I faced my reflection. I looked tired.

Very tired.

There was only silence, then, the dying falls of water being drained, as the glass shower door opened to reveal yet more steam, to fog the entire bathroom. The decorations seemed to be overly garnished and layered, making me feel... overly numb; Subtlety was lacking, and so was it's nuances, which irritated me.

After changing, I emerged from the room, and Feliciano's eyes turned toward mine, highlighted with excitement. "Now, are you ready to go? I know some shops, on Oxford Street." I silently nodded, attempting to maintain a reserved air about myself.

"We can take that new train; The London Underground. It just opened this year, you know." Feliciano suggested. "We can take that, If you'd like, though, I don't think that line goes to Oxford Street; Goes to a meat market in Smithsfield I think." I said, and his grin dropped.

"Oh.. well.. I guess horse and carriage, seems appropriate, doesn't it...?" Feliciano moped, looking down at his feet. I felt a small pang of guilt. "Fine, we can take the train on one of it's stops.." Though I didn't see any point in it. It being crowded to the brim and lined with coal dust and steam inside dark tunnels.

I lifted him from the bed, giving a mock grin. "Let us go then."

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**Did I fix the dialogue/scrunched-up-ness? **

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